Chapter 10: Chock full o’ hubris

Crouching in the bushes, we watch the dilapidated spider-inn from nearly a hundred yards distant. Mato is currently checking our surroundings for nests or webbing. As far as I can tell, there isn't a single tree in the area without a spiderweb touching it. But, despite that fact, Mato seems satisfied that the quietest of whispers at least won't vibrate them and alert any spiders. If I sneeze though, we're dead.

“Alright son, what sorts of Wocekiye or magic or whatever do ya got?” Mato asks, crouching down next to me, scanning the trees above us for movement.

“Wocekiye?” I whisper, confused.

“It’s Lakota– Indian stuff– don't worry about it. What else can ya do besides move roots and shoot light?” He clarifies, terribly. I'm also not sure Indian is the right term anymore, but if anyone's got the right to it…

“I've got [Tripping Roots], [Light], [Magic Missile], [Minor Illusion], uh… [Eye-dentify] and… [Jury-rigged Alchemy].” I say, pronouncing [Eye-dentify] by putting a greater emphasis on the ‘eye’ syllable. I realize I'm a little embarrassed by my pitiful repertoire.

Mato frowns slightly as he takes that in, he looks like he's about to ask a followup question, thinks better of it, then settles on a different one.

“What can ya do with [Minor Illusion]?”

“Small, silent, 3-dimensional image of something I can picture clearly. I can have it move around if I want to, but I can't have it appear too far away from myself, and if something touches it and I'm not focusing, it'll pass right through.” I explain.

Mato thinks for a moment.

“Alright, I've got [Instantaneous Reload] which I can use twice a day. Already used it once. [Lightfooted] I'm pretty sure makes me quieter and more spry when moving about. [Eagle-eyed] helps my long-distance aim. And I've got [Free Ammo: 3x Bolts] which lets me… sorta create 3 bolts a day outta thin air.” Mato reveals.

“So,” he continues, “what can we do with all that?” He glances at me, checking his gear as he thinks.

“Well, I've got some ethanol I can make molotovs or bombs with.” I offer.

Mato shuts that idea down. “No good. Bomb would call this whole forest of spiders to us. And no molotovs. Did your orientation fella tell you that we'd be in this second place with other folks who died around the same time as us? Somebody might be in there.”

I scoff. “That place is crawling with giant spiders. Anyone in there is already dead, and if they aren't, they wish they were.”

Mato glares at me.

“I'll give you this,” I concede, “if anybody crawled in there to die, they've probably got weapons and supplies. And since spiders don't make a habit of using swords or rope, we'll be able to take it. So, no fire.”

Mato sighs, disappointed. “I can probably hit the ones on the southern face of the house from here, but I've only got 13 bolts, and firin’ my crossbow is bound to shake something. Maybe if we have something hitting the webs a lot harder far closer then we can draw em out and they'll focus on the bigger movement. Can you hit those webs from here with your spell?”

“Never tried but I bet I can. Can't fire too many though or I'll burn out.”

I think for a moment. “You said their eyesight is terrible right?”

Mato grunts in confirmation.

“Terrible, but not non-existent?" I ask.

“What're you thinkin'?” He narrows his eyes in hopeful suspicion.

“I'm thinking if I can get closer, I can probably cast [Tripping Roots] on one of the webs near the ground, maintain the spell to keep plucking at the webs, then summon a [Minor Illusion] of something stuck to keep their attention. Even if the illusion shimmers when they pounce on it, they probably won't notice. I can cast both spells without moving or speaking, so as long as I'm decently hidden I should be fine.” I explain.

I think it's a solid plan– even if it relies on my shaky ability to modify a spell– but my attempts to block off the nest earlier gives me confidence I can do it. If the damn plants are willing to cooperate.

Mato is less confident. “Risky. You'll be a lot closer, and your bright blue outfit won't be hard to see. And that's without considering that I might get snuck up on from behind by a spider that feels my vibrations while yours are too far.” He rubs his eyes with one hand, clearly frustrated. “But shoot, it's our best option. How close do you need to get?”

“I'm not sure,” I admit. “I'd say 50-60 feet is my maximum. I can probably do farther eventually, but gimme a break, I only started casting spells a few days ago.”

“Think you can get that close?”

“Yeah, definitely.” I say, chock full o’ hubris.

***

Crouching between a thick shrub and a wide fern, I commune with the roots. It feels like I'm mentally having a negotiation with a union rep, but in actuality I'm just sorta given a sixth sense of where the roots are, feeling an ethereal resistance as I picture what I want them to do– A resistance that's slowly easing the more mental vitriol for the spiders I water them with.

Some plants are grown with love, these are gonna be grown with hate.

Hopefully that doesn't have consequences.

With [Tripping Roots] primed, I begin casting [Minor Illusion]. First time I’ve noticed, but maintaining two spells at once has the mana being sucked from me faster than if it were just the two individually.

At first, I attempt to create an illusion of myself, but it feels stretched thin, and I'm only able to make it from the ribs and up. Parts of it are glossed over and shimmering. So, clearly, I can't picture myself perfectly; I don't exactly stare in the mirror watching the way I move.

I go smaller, and begin forming someone who I have seen day after day.

A 3’2” version of Higgy appears before me. White guy shitty tribal tattoos cover his muscular arms, he's wearing one of his many V-neck shirts and he pushes back his black hair as his smirk reveals his gold tooth. I test his movements, and when his head tilts to my eye, I find myself looking away. I can't even look it in the eye.

A complicated rage begins boiling within me, threatening to break my concentration, and I picture how this illusion would look struggling and dying in the webs of a giant spider. I start to give the illusion the command, but hesitate. My fists clench painfully, and the illusory Higgy dissipates.

Fighting back a wateryness in my eyes, from grief or frustration, I go simple. A 3’2” wooden posing-mannequin, much like the orientation constructs, appears. I test its movements, and can't help but notice it stands like Higgy did. Its arms crossed in such a way to compensate for muscles it doesn't have.

I send the [Minor Illusion] running towards the inn and a grounded web before I can dwell on it. When it arrives, I set it on a loop of struggling and flailing, and I unleash the [Tripping Roots]. Maintaining the spell, forcing the roots to keep moving, I feel a small candle of burning within some deep part of myself being turned up like an oil lantern. The mana cost of this modification feels like holding my breath; simple enough for now, but when my throat starts to spasm and my chest starts to blaze, we'll see how long I last.

Like turning over a rock in the early 2000s before pollution killed all the insects, a swarm of the giant spiders come scuttling out from the windows and various holes in the walls.

Jumping spiders leap atop the illusion, and spinning spiders try to cocoon it and only spin empty webs. But with a distant twang of a crossbow, one by one, they begin to fall.

They're stupid bugs, but they notice that something is up when their comrades fall from the webs beside them, or perhaps they can smell the hemalymph. But a tactical change in the [Minor Illusion], making it suddenly reach for them or escape the webs for a few feet, quickly draws their attention back.

In the paradoxical way time moves when your life is in danger– the seconds being so full of action they feel like they last forever– a quick eternity passes, and the spiders stop falling, yet a few still remain on the webs, alive and confused.

I look back towards Mato’s position, and see him waving an unloaded crossbow and an empty bolt pouch in the air; He’s out of ammo.

Fuck.

There’s still 3 of them remaining— one jumping, two spinners. The illusion seems to be losing their attention or they’re growing wary, so their movements are slowed and cautious. I drop the [Minor Illusion], its position now thoroughly covered by webs, but keep up the [Tripping Roots], the strain of maintaining it nagging at me.

I draw the scorched shortsword from my satchel and back up slightly. Standing up straight, as hidden as possible behind the shrubbery, I take my boxers stance and punch out. A [Magic Missile] lances out into the jumping spider, it falls to the ground giving a silent shriek, and flailingly rights itself. Another magic punch and another magic muscle pulled in my gut, and it’s dead. The two spinner spiders skitter and scatter across the webs. I fire a [Magic Missile] at the one coming closest and miss, the impact causes the other spider to turn around and follow. My gut painfully twists as I send another into the closing spider, and jump out of the way, hunched, when it tosses a sticky web at me as its dying act. I lose sight of the final spinner, and quickly scan all the surrounding trees for it, but can’t find it.

Suddenly, I feel my legs and lower back get kicked from beneath me by impact, and though I stumble to keep my balance, my legs don’t move. Sticky glue-like webs cover my legs, and I can’t turn completely around to examine them. I look up, and see the spinner spider cascading down from a high branch.

My mana is running dry, and I can’t punch correctly while stuck like this, so I ready the shortsword. I slash at a long spindly leg as it jabs into me from above, trying to hold me still so it can bite. It flinches back and I stab up towards its head, but can’t quite reach. Just as its spinnerets stop to drop the spider onto me, it’s knocked off course and falls beside me as Mato tackles it with his knife drawn. Legs poke at him, but he keeps the spider pinned against the ground with his knees as he stabs into it over and over, nearly severing the thorax before he gets up from atop it.

Heavy breathing is the only sound as he helps cut the webbing away from me. I keep my eye on the surroundings, and finally kick my legs free. Mato begins stabbing the dead spiders, to make sure they're really dead, and looking for salvageable bolts; he finds only 2 very gross bolts. Mato meets my eye and we share a nod, before he puts a finger to his lips to remind me to stay quiet, and signals for us to approach the inn.

I hope beyond hope that we flushed out every spider in there, because if not— with 2 bolts and little mana remaining— we’re doomed.